Something About Him

II. Meatloaf and Bad Behavior

It's around six in the evening by the time I finish putting together my bedroom.

After hours of walking through various stores, Jack and I built my new, long dresser, my nightstand, and a desk with a swivel chair. He helped me place shelves on the walls and hang curtains and stick LED lights onto my walls. I don't understand why Julian doesn't like Jack. He might make lame dad jokes, but he's helpful and nice.

Once everything is set up, I'm left to decorate my room. It doesn't take long, I'm still waiting for my things to be mailed from my old home. So, with some of the new decorations Laura let me get, and the few items I was able to bring in my carryon, I was able to make my room feel like mine.

I take out the last possession of mine from my backpack and place it softly on my nightstand. It's a picture of my parents and I. We were all smiling, almost laughing, while mom tried to take a 'selfie' with all three of us.

The recently familiar burning in my eyes starts up again. Don't cry. I take deep breaths and try not to think about their death. Grieving is like swimming in the ocean, one moment you're floating and everything feels okay, then out of nowhere a wave hits you and suddenly you're drowning in unwanted memories and emotions. For me, memories are my parents and I literally drowning.

I rub my fists into my eyes. Don't cry, don't cry. But I miss them. I miss my parents so much, feels like half of me was ripped out of my soul.

Looking around at everything Laura bought me, including the new bedding I'm sitting on, I'm grateful for it all, but I would return every last item in a heartbeat for my parents back. I lay down, grab the pillow that's covered in a white, silky pillowcase, and put it over my face.

Screaming out all my pain is the only thought as I press the pillow against me. I take a deep breath before I'm about to let out all of my emotions.

"Matthew," I hear and I don't get a chance to scream. Throwing the pillow off of me, I sit up as soon as I hear my bedroom door open along with my name being called.

It's Laura.

"Hey," I greet as if I wasn't about to have a mental breakdown.

"Just wanted to check in on you," she looks around, "your room looks great."

I give a brief smile, "Thank you again."

"Of course." Then there's an awkward pause as she looks at me with sympathetic eyes before saying, "I'll leave you to it. Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Holler if you need anything."

"Thanks," I repeat as she shuts my door. Taking a deep breath, I rub my eyes one last time before getting out of bed. As much as I can't stand seeing Laura's sad expression on her face everytime she sees me, I'm grateful she interrupted my almost breakdown. I know it's healthy to release my emotions, especially a time of grieving, but I hate crying. I hate feeling weak and losing control of my emotions. So I push it all down. It's better that way.

*

Downstairs, there's a capacious dining room with a rectangular table that seats six. There's a centerpiece of mini ceramic pumpkins with a fall themed cloth running from one side of the table to the other giving a nice October vibe.

Kayla's already sitting down, scrolling through social media on her phone while Laura's setting the table.

"I can help," I offer after all she's done for me.